


Euphony

by immistermercury



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1920s-esque, First Meetings, Fluff, One Shot, author is obsessed with gold, discussion of sex, freddie is a model, it's a battle of expensive tastes, jim is a cellist, they meet in an expensive restaurant, they're trying to outdo each other and also flirting, this could be in gatsby (apart from heaven), this is their first ever conversation!, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: “Can’t get served, darling?” He asked, tucking a fifty into the belt of the boy who’d carried his jacket. “I’m sure I can help. They serve couples far more quickly.”Jim looked him up and down incredulously. “Good evening?”“And the same to you.” He winked and crossed one leg over the other. “It’s Freddie Mercury.”
Relationships: Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	Euphony

**Author's Note:**

> I really shouldn't be allowed to listen to panic at the disco because then this happens!

The first thing he noticed was the fur coat that the bell-boy placed on the back of the seat before him; he’d been waiting at least twenty minutes to be served, alone at a table for two, and the first piece of recognition he’d had all evening was the little  _ sir!  _ sent in his direction. He saw fur, then velvet, then satin; a beautiful man sat opposite him in a wine-red velvet jacket, suit trousers, his white shirt half unbuttoned and a rose tucked in his boutonnière. “Can’t get served, darling?” He asked, tucking a fifty into the belt of the boy who’d carried his jacket. “I’m sure I can help. They serve couples far more quickly.”

Jim looked him up and down incredulously. “Good evening?”

“And the same to you.” He winked and crossed one leg over the other. “It’s Freddie Mercury.” He announced, holding out his hand for Jim to shake.

He did so, still a little in disbelief at the confidence of the man before him. “I’m-”

“I know who you are, darling.” Freddie commented idly, lighting a cigarette and resting it in the elegant crystal ashtray. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all.” He said immediately. “How do you know who I am?”

“I know most things about you.” Freddie took a drag, cigarette poised gracefully between his middle and ring finger, and deliberately evaded the question. “You’re Jim Hutton, you’re thirty-four, you’re a Capricorn, you recently broke up with your wonderfully handsome boyfriend, you play the cello for the London Symphony Orchestra, and you live either in Knightsbridge, South Kensington or Earl’s Court.” He recited, a cocky grin on his face. “Louis Roederer Brut Rosé Cristal, darling, please.” He smiled at the waiter.

“I don’t know if I should phone the police or be impressed.” Jim laid out his Sobranie packet as conspicuously as he could, and he didn’t miss the delighted arch of Freddie’s eyebrow when he realised he was being played at his own game. 

“Oh, darling!” He sat back in his chair, looking ever so pleased with himself. “If you were planning to phone the police, you would’ve done so when I had my jacket put down at your spare seat.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Jim conceded, lighting his cigarette with a match, which made Freddie whistle. “Humour me, then. Who are you, and why are you here?”

“I love my men how I love my whiskey, darling, old-fashioned.” He winked. “I’m an international model. I live in London and New York, and this is something of a hobby of mine.” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but made sure to accentuate the hollows of his cheeks a little more with the next drag of his cigarette. 

“You have a hobby of sitting with strangers?” Jim questioned, laying out his hands on the table in front of him, giving Freddie a glimpse of solid silver rings and matching cufflinks.

“I have a hobby of sitting with men who look bored.” Freddie laid out his own fingers, conspicuously bare and elegantly manicured, and then took a sip of his wine. “Men who look a little uncomfortable, as though they still haven’t gotten used to the life that they live.”

Jim arched an eyebrow and took the menu to look again through the options. “You think I look uncomfortable in here?”

“Not ‘in’ here.” Freddie was enjoying his time with the intriguing Irishman more than he ever could have imagined. “In yourself. It’s as though you’re still asking yourself how that little Dublin boy got to be dining alone in one of the most expensive restaurants in London.”

“I’m not a Dublin boy.” Jim took a drag of his own cigarette and plucked it from between his lips with thumb and forefinger; while Freddie was almost effeminate in the way that he held and conducted himself, Jim was far more conscious of his masculinity.

“First mistake I’ve made all evening.” Freddie quipped lazily.

“And I’m not uncomfortable in myself.” Jim added quickly. “What makes you say that?”

“I moved to Los Angeles at the age of nineteen. Everyone said they’d eat me alive, but it was the first city I ever got to be rich in, and it was one hell of an experience.” He blew a smoke ring into the air above them. “I know the look because I had it. I couldn’t believe I was there.”

Jim shrugged. “I mean, my promotion was reasonably recently, so I’m not quite used to lavish.” He admitted.

“Bingo.” Freddie winked. “Which is why you still go to Heaven.”

“Excuse me?” Jim stuttered.

“Oh, darling, don’t go all coy on me. That’s how I know you.” He sipped his wine again, expertly balancing his cigarette and his wine glass in the same hand. “I offered to buy you a drink. You replied, and I quote, that I should ‘fuck off’.” 

Jim’s cheeks coloured immediately. “I’m sure it wasn’t like that.” He murmured apologetically.

“Oh, it definitely was.” Freddie shrugged. “And I did, which is rare. Then I saw you getting fucked over a sink at about three in the morning.”

Jim could’ve spat out his  _ very fucking expensive  _ rosé. “I was clearly interested in someone else that evening.”

“I’ll give it to you, he was gorgeous.” Freddie shrugged. “Made me tempted to ask if I could join in, but you have awfully big hands, darling, and I was slightly scared of what they’d do to me if I interrupted your moment of bliss.”

Jim couldn’t believe how freely he spoke about it. “Listen, I-”

“It’s a hard pill to swallow when you’re beautiful for a living.” He finished his cigarette and crushed it in the dish beside him.

“I’m sorry?” Jim said meekly, and Freddie laughed out loud.

“You’re sorry?” He teased. “Making me wait just makes it better, sweetheart.”

Jim could tell he was beautiful for a living as soon as he said it; if it wasn’t for the confidence he conducted himself with, the flawlessness of every part of his outfit - his hair was perfectly trimmed, his jaw sculpted by five o’clock shadow and his chest hidden behind dark hair, and his lips seemed to naturally form the most idly incredible pout he’d ever seen - it was the spark behind his eyes. Every beautiful person he’d ever met had sparkled in low light, glowing green or purple or pink or blue, attracting attention which they could fend off with merely the bat of elegantly made up eyelashes.

Freddie, though, Freddie glowed gold, regal, royal gold, the same colour as the notes of the cello that he played to himself at night, the same colour as the ache in his fingers, the same colour that his hands glowed as he so skillfully made instruments hum and sing and purr. He was dangerously gold, frighteningly rich, gold like chocolate truffles, gold like the rosé he held in his hand, gold like the warmth of a hand on the inner thigh as the car rolled slowly homewards.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if I have synaesthesia but the more I write the more I begin to wonder because I can see sound and I can also get physical pain from reading something emotional (stinging in the palms of my hands - anyone else?) but it really does make for good descriptions so maybe it's a blessing?
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this silly one-shot! Comments always make me endlessly happy if you'd like to leave one - they're one of the reasons I write!
> 
> Cliona - your learning English!Freddie fic is coming soon!


End file.
